


the sun will shine on you again (i'll make sure of it)

by pseudoanalytics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Cunnilingus, Fix-It, Hair-pulling, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PIV Sex, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Trans Loki (Marvel), mostly discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 22:19:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14861336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudoanalytics/pseuds/pseudoanalytics
Summary: "You really have got to stop this whole pretending-to-die thing, Loki. Can't blame your brother for getting a little tired of it. Just let him know that as long as I'm around, I won't let you. And I happen to, I just so happen to be immortal."





	the sun will shine on you again (i'll make sure of it)

**Author's Note:**

> in loving memory of loki odinson

His eyes open.

This act, in itself, doesn't seem particularly surprising, but then a few seconds pass and he remembers.

Loki jolts upright, a hand to his throat. He can feel himself shaking and sweating and panting, but his airflow is unrestricted and nothing hurts. Nothing hurts. Norns, he can't remember the last time he felt so—

The blue skin surprises him. It shocks him the way it has only twice before, and his knee jerk reaction sends his head backwards into a wall. It isn't like he hasn't had plenty of time to think about it. He knows what he is. Hell, he even revealed it in at least four of the many plays he wrote about himself during his reign as Odin. It has nothing to do with the shock, with how the body he's looking at _seems_ like his own, but just doesn't quite look right. It's the revulsion. It's the way his throat closes up—no, please, not the throat. It's how he can't breathe in—one more gasp of air, that's all he needs. It's the pressure in his head—this really is it, for real, and he isn't ready, he isn't.

Loki lets out a little grunt of effort as he reapplies the glamour. It sails, tinted green, along him and his shredded leather. He lets the blue be swallowed up. Then _he_ swallows. His head hurts.

"I'd bet money you have a few questions," a voice says from beside him, and Loki cracks his head against the wall a second time in terror. "If gambling was legal, of course."

Loki slowly looks up at the Grandmaster, still unable to really catch his breath. "Where… What… How?"

"Add 'who, why, and when' and you've got a matched set," the Grandmaster says with a lazy grin. When Loki doesn't return it, he lets his face slip back to neutral, carefully sitting down as well. "The 'who,' well, that's me obviously. The 'what?' Resurrection. Here on my ship is 'where,' and 'when?' Who knows. Time can be real weird like that. And I don't think I need to explain 'how' and 'why.'"

When Loki speaks, he does so very carefully, as if he's just inhaled cut glass. "Where is Thor?"

The Grandmaster frowns. "No, 'where' is here on my ship."

"No. My brother, Thor. Where is he?" Loki has no time or patience for games today. If he can just save Thor… Repay his debt… Stop Thanos…

"The Lord of Thunder? Not a clue." The Grandmaster taps a finger on his lower lip in thought. "Where's the last place you had him?"

Loki is already stumbling upward. His limbs feel like rubber, and a sensation in his gut tells him that _something_ is wrong. He clutches the back of his head with a hiss.

"Whoa whoa whoa. What do you think you're doing?"

"Thanos is out there. And he has my brother and two of the infinity stones." Loki trips and nearly faceplates, but the Grandmaster is behind him, catching his waist with that abnormally strong ease.

"Actually, Lo, he has all of them. And he already did that, you know," he snaps his fingers in demonstration, "to everyone."

Loki goes limp in the Grandmaster's grip. It's not really an intentional decision; more of an involuntary reflex. "To everyone?" His voice sounds haunted even to his own ears. Did that mean that Thor was—

"Well, not, not _everyone_. Only half."

"Even on Sakaar?"

The Grandmaster scoffs, pulling Loki into something that lightly resembled a hug. "No. Not on Sakaar. Are you pulling my leg? I shut that down as soon as I, as soon as I noticed." He smiles down at Loki, all half-lidded eyes and a hint of his own brand of mischief. "I don't need a fancy glove to snap half a population back into existence." He pauses. "Although maybe I should get one. Remind me to tell Topaz."

Loki shakes his head. He can't do this again. He really can't. If Thor is alive... If he's out there, he needs Loki's help. Even with the assistance of all his little Midgardian friends, he can't hope to bring down Thanos.

"If it helps," the Grandmaster purrs, tilting Loki's face to look at him, "I've brought some help along. Including yours truly of course."

Loki hates when someone manages to surprise him. He feels his jaw drop in shock. "You? You're coming along?"

"Oh, Lo. My Contest of Champions? All fun and games. A treat to watch, I know. But there is nothing I'd love more than to join in. It's just that... Well, no one likes an easy fight!"

Loki does. But he keeps his mouth shut.

"What use is it fighting in that gorgeous arena if I hardly have to lift a finger?" the Grandmaster continues. "But this Thanos guy?" He hems and haws suggestively. "Now there's a fight. With those Infinity stones he might make me have to stand up!"

There's a knock on the door, and Loki is suddenly aware of how his clothes are barely staying together. They certainly aren't doing much to protect his modesty. He's contemplating how best to arrange his legs when the Grandmaster drops his golden robe over him.

"Put this on until we can get you some proper fighting duds. Some nice sleek armor to protect those vitals and flaunt those arms."

"Not the arms!" Loki blurts before he can help himself.

"Not the arms?" The Grandmaster stands and heads to answer the incessant knock. "Why not?"

When you grow up with Thor as your brother, you tend not to want to bare your admittedly... slender... arms. _Toned_ , Loki thinks. _Lithe_.

He's spared from answering when the Grandmaster opens the door and admits Topaz.

She quirks an eyebrow at Loki, probably a mess with his burnt skin, tangled hair, and gold robe. "Scrapper—" she huffs, "the _Valkyrie_ needs you up front."

"Valkyrie?" Loki whispers, perking up. "Is she here?"

"Sadly so," Topaz grits out.

"Oh, she's really the best isn't she?" grins the Grandmaster. "She came over right after that Thanos guy blew up your ship and snapped your uh, your neck." He's grinning like he sees no problem casually mentioning Loki's previous death. He probably doesn't. "Brought a bunch of Assberg people with her. I'll go see what she needs, and you and Topaz can catch up! How about that!"

Loki is fairly certain that catching up with Topaz is the _last_ thing he should do, but considering his state of semi-undress and the fact that the Grandmaster seems to have stationed her here to watch him, he really doesn't feel good about his possibility of escaping it.

The Grandmaster sidles off, whistling aimlessly, and the door shuts, leaving Loki and his unfriendly assistant inside.

Loki knows he has the capability to win over nearly anyone. His reputation as a master liesmith is not undeserved, nor is his widely renowned charisma. But to properly earn someone's trust, he has to _want_ to. And he has no particular urge to befriend Topaz.

"I thought you died," he drawls.

"I thought you did too," she snaps back.

Point to her then.

"I guess he _had_ to revive you," Loki tries. "I imagine it's hard to find anyone else dull enough to wait on him hand and foot."

Her eyes narrow further. "That leaves one to wonder why he'd bring you back then. He has plenty of people who would gladly be easy fucks."

2-0, Topaz. In his defense, he _did_ just die. His brain is probably still coming back online. That second one kind of stung though. He doesn't want her to see, but it must register anyway, because she glances away and awkwardly clears her throat.

"It's still good to have you here again," she spits apologetically. It rasps from her throat like she can't decide whether she really wants to let it out.

"No, it's not," says Loki.

"No, it's not," she agrees.

He gives her a crooked grin. She might not have meant it, but the intention is clear. Loki doesn't speak the way others might, but he does, strangely, speak Topaz's language. Hiding genuine emotion under layers of spite and carefully aimed digs? That he gets. It isn't obtuse to him like Thor's blunt and honest displays of affection. Don't think about Thor. _Don't think about Thor_.

"You'll be off balance," Topaz says. "Your mind will feel scattered. You can't collect your thoughts properly. It'll feel like you might never be the same again."

He blinks at her.

"It's normal." She gives him a crooked smirk. It's more fitting for bragging about a glorious victory than it is for a moment of hospitality. "You'll recover in a day or two."

She must be right, because his brain is grinding slowly, unsure what she's talking about. It finally clicks. "Coming back, you mean? Revival?"

Topaz nods, face grim again. Loki figures she would understand.

"He's coming with us, you know," he says calmly, standing up and fiddling with the golden robe until he can tie it around himself. As if on cue, a large section of his pants snaps loose and drops to the floor. Neither of them look at it. "He's going to fight Thanos."

"I know," she says. "I'll be there too."

"You? And what are your combat skills?"

"What are _yours_?"

"I beg your pardon?" Loki scoffs. "Not only am I skilled in magic, but I'm also the god of mischief." He tries to slide a blade from thin air, but when that fails, he tries to amend the movement until he's just pointing in her direction. "Chaos, happens to be my forte." Then with an audible creak, the rest of his clothing gives way, and the ragged leather slips off his shoulders and pools under the robe.

She actually laughs. Topaz's laugh is a harsh, barking thing, and it crinkles her nose and bends her in two. As loud and raucous as it sounds, it's also very contagious, and Loki feels an honest grin stretch his face. He kicks his clothes away, holding the robe shut in case the tie were to fail as well.

"I— I like you," she says, and it feels like a benediction.

The door creaks back open to let the Grandmaster back in. He peers inside, glancing back and forth between them. "Is that— Is that laughter? I hear?"

"He's something else," Topaz croaks, letting the last of her cackles fade away. "He's something else entirely."

The Grandmaster looks happy, but baffled. "Like a Yo-yo Lander?"

"Jotunn," Loki huffs.

Topaz starts snickering again. "No. He's just something else." She's wiping her eyes as she walks out of the room.

Loki tries to hide his own smile in the one long golden sleeve.

"No, no, no. Don't hide that away," the Grandmaster croons, swanning over to hold Loki's face. "You have no idea how much— how happy it makes me to see you two playing nice. She doesn't smile easily you know! And her laughter? I haven't heard that since the last public execution, which, between you and me, was quite a while ago." He pauses and really looks at Loki, who is once again aware of how little he's wearing. "Golly," he whispers. "Looks like, like we have some time to kill until we arrive on Terra, so... Kiss for luck?"

Loki really doesn't have time to think about the question until he's already stepped forward. He winds his arms up and around the Grandmaster's shoulders and lets himself fall in. He'd thought he'd never get this again. The affection, the touch, the overwhelming sensation that only connecting magic users could... Wait.

He pulls back, a little frantic. "My magic..."

The Grandmaster instantly flips from seductive to concerned. "What's up?"

"My magic is... It's..." Loki does his best to cast some simple spells and easy illusions. "I can't..." The panic is setting in again, and the Grandmaster gently grabs one of his flailing wrists.

"You can do _something_. It's not blue," he says calmly. "You did _this_."

The glamour. That's true. But he can't... Nothing else...

"Shh..." whispers the Grandmaster. "Just drop it. You don't need it. And you need your small magic reserve more right now."

"No," Loki rasps, still terrified. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, like it's trying to escape. "I can't. I... I need it." He drops his head into his hands and lets the Grandmaster pull him into a hug. Facing his Jotunn self is not what he expected. He'd always hoped he'd die before he needed to... Ha. _Well_ , Loki thinks, _it seems I got what I wanted_.

He steps back from the Grandmaster's arms and sinks back down onto the ground.

"Hey. Hey, Lo." After a moment, he joins him. "I can't say I understand. Me! I don't get it. But I do see that it really bothers you. So shh. No need to worry about it."

"Ridiculous," Loki spits self-deprecatingly. "I've died, and yet _this_ is what I'm most afraid of. My true self."

The Grandmaster slides next to him, draping one arm over Loki's shoulder and letting him rest his head against him. "Now, I don't know much about stuff like this, but I'd say, how do you wish you could look? All the time."

Without hesitation, Loki says, "Like this."

"Huh. Well then. I'd say that _this_ is your true self, more than your Yo-yo form will ever be."

Loki rolls his eyes, even though the Grandmaster can't see it at this angle. "My father taught me to hate my Jotunn form. It's me, but I'll never see it that way. I'll never be comfortable in it."

"I guess it's a matter of balancing learning to love yourself with learning that _you_ decide who you are. Not your parents." The Grandmaster shifts slightly. "Until then, we gotta be practical here. You need that magic. And me? I've got plenty to spare. Why don't you give control of that little glamour to me, and I'll deal with it while we fight."

Loki jolts back to look at him. "Really? Would you really?"

"Of course? What, you think it's a problem? For _me_ , Lo?" The Grandmaster hums and looks straight into Loki's eyes, narrowing his own. "Just gotta... make sure I've got it perfect. I'd hate to make you look ever so slightly off. Can you imagine! Yeah, I'd better, I'd better get a nice close look at everything so I can be sure I know what you look like."

Loki lets out a soft laugh. He can play along with this. Because he gets to have this. This is _his_. "That's true. I don't want my own brother to not recognize me when we arrive."

"He's already going to be so surprised to see you." The Grandmaster pushes Loki not-so-subtly toward the wall.

"Oh, he's— Oh, norns. He's going to kill me _again_ for pretending to die, you know." Loki lets himself be pressed against the flat metal. "He's not going to get over this one as easily."

"You really have got to stop this whole pretending to die thing then. Can't blame the guy for— for getting a little tired of it." A hand starts to untie Loki's sash. "Just let him know that as long as I'm around, I won't let you die. And I happen... I happen to be immortal."

This time when the Grandmaster kisses him, there's no room to misunderstand his intentions. A ringed hand grips Loki's jaw and neck and the other opens and drapes apart the gold robe. Loki would love to start undressing the Grandmaster as well, but at the moment, his hands are a little preoccupied with running through the soft, short hair at the nape of the Grandmaster's neck and trying to establish a bracing grip on his broad shoulders.

"I have really, really missed you," the Grandmaster says against his lips. He rolls his hips down hard. "And I've definitely missed this."

Loki opens his mouth to agree, but it catches in his throat and comes out as a surprised groan instead. The soft puffs of breath on his neck tingle slightly, and while he might be at his own magical limits, the Grandmaster is not, and the strength of his power still radiates through Loki's limbs.

"I'm gonna need to borrow these," the Grandmaster whispers against his ear. Loki shivers and feels him catch both his wrists. The Grandmaster pushes them down flat against the wall. "Keep these here for me, Lo?" It's a rhetorical question, but Loki nods anyway. His knees are shaking already; it's almost embarrassing. "And keep this lovely, lovely head," the Grandmaster kisses him hard enough to press Loki's head back into solid metal, "right here too."

Loki swallows. He's holding himself flat, and it's actually harder than if he hadn't had a wall to lean against at all. The robe is wide open, and there's a hint of a draft from the air recyclers that tickles across his bare torso. It also calls to his attention the thin coating of slick that has made its way to his inner thigh.

It's really not his fault, Loki's sure. He got used to this whole regular sex stuff, and also he has a bit of a thing for being observed. And of course the Grandmaster knows this.

He glides his eyes up and down Loki's body, giving a bit of a purr as he holds his curled finger to his lips. It takes everything in Loki not to twitch or fidget. Finally, the Grandmaster reaches out and inches a hand against his stomach. The muscles there jump instinctively, and Loki's breath ticks up another notch.

The Grandmaster takes a minute there, just fanning his hands out across Loki's pectorals and hipbones. He taps his fingers like he's playing his keyboard and adds just a hint of a nail scrape from time to time. When he finally moves in close, pressing himself flat against him, it pushes air from Loki's lungs in a breathy pant.

This time the kiss is slow and wet. Loki can feel the drag and catch of their lips, and the frictionless whisk of a tongue against his own. Every time they release, there's a soft _snk_ , and if Loki shivers when the hand holding his neck moves higher into his hair, only the Grandmaster will ever know. That same hand slowly flexes, catching the strands in a tightening fist. The entire surface of Loki's scalp comes alive at once, and he feels the answering tense tug further down as well. His hips lift from the wall without his permission, and Loki snaps them back the second he realizes.

"Oh ho. Getting a little wound up?" the Grandmaster asks. Loki is pretty sure he knows the answer to that one already. A hand leaves drawn-out scratchmarks against his flank, and Loki gasps and tucks his face into the blue of the Grandmaster's shirt neck.

"What can I say?" Loki says with a bit of a chuckle and a little too much air. "I guess I've missed you too."

"Now that's what I— what I like to hear." With a low laugh, the Grandmaster leans in close to Loki's ear. "Remember to keep your head and hands still." Then he sinks to his knees.

Loki's eyes shut on their own. "Oh god," he breathes.

Elegant hands maneuver one of his legs over the Grandmaster's shoulder and then there's warm breath in exactly the place Loki would _love_ a mouth right about now. The same hands smooth over his hips and give his ass a good squeeze.

"S-stop that," he stutters. It's hard to talk when you're shaking with anticipation. It's also hard when your mouth is stretched in a long, thin smile. He's excited for this. He _loves_ it. He loves— Hmm. _Don't let your thoughts wander there_ , Loki thinks.

More air blows across him, definitely intentional. "Hello there," the Grandmaster croons, and Loki almost moves a hand to cover his face in embarrassment. He hears him smack his lips and feels the definite flush overtake his cheeks.

The first contact is the delicate flick of a tongue, and Loki is glad his head is against the wall or he might have cracked it backward in shock, exacerbating the same sore spot from earlier. He gets three of four more hard flicks against his clit before the Grandmaster moves in, closing his mouth around as much of Loki as possible.

Loki hears himself make a bit of a punched out sound, and he uses the leg over the Grandmaster's shoulder to reel him in tighter, heel against shoulder blade.

The wet sounds are background noise against Loki's harsh breaths and shaking whines. He loves this like he loves mischief. It feels like the worship he's always wanted to deserve.

A hard suck to his clit bends him double, and Loki feels his hand clench in the Grandmaster's hair even though he never remembers giving it permission to do so. He can feel the tingling building in his legs. It always starts in his thighs, muscles tensing tighter and tighter, and leads to his abdomen, which contracts and arches. His chin is glued to his sternum, and Loki gasps down at the white head of hair between his legs. He can see his own blush inching down his chest and shoulders. His face must be on fire.

The orgasm swells inside him, and Loki chokes off a moan to gulp air, ready to fall over the edge.

Then the Grandmaster leans back and clicks his tongue in disapproval. Loki is a little distracted by the shiny, wet slick covering his face from the nose down.

"Loki. Head back please. And what's this hand doing free?"

His hips twitch on their own, desperately seeking the extra stimulation he needs. But it's too late, he's already backing down and cooling off. It's unacceptable.

"Grandmaster..."

"Shh. I said to stay still."

"Yes, but— _ah_."

The mouth returns, and Loki is more frantic this time. He chases his own pleasure, letting his hips twitch and buck slightly. His hands are fisted against the wall. They knock lightly against the metal as he spasms.

This time when he nears the peak, Loki doesn't even realize he's dropped his chin down again. There's a tongue wriggling inside him, and the slight tease of teeth against his clit rockets him closer. He _does_ realize when the Grandmaster pulls away again.

"You're really struggling with this, eh, Lo?" He carefully sets down Loki's leg, smiling and running the back of his hand reverently along where the muscles in his thigh twitch. "Let me— Maybe let me help you out a little there." The Grandmaster stands up, and he's miraculously immune to Loki's death glare.

" _Please_ ," Loki grits out. He's just _died_. Can't the man cut him a little slack?

"I was wondering if..." the Grandmaster says, ignoring him, "if you'd be comfortable with me..." He runs fingers lightly across Loki's opening, resulting in a desperate thrust. "Me in here. No pressure."

Loki freezes, then smiles. It's loose and relaxed but with a sharpness that only edging can produce. His head feels bright and open. It's a question he'd been asked before, back when he'd first arrived on Sakaar. Loki had said no then, but since that time, he's just been waiting to be asked again.

"Yes," he hisses, and the purring rumbles in his ear again.

"Thank you," the Grandmaster says, as if he's been given a gift. "You look so good in color, Lo."

"What color?"

"This color." He runs his hands along Loki's chest again, pointing out the heavy flush he has going on. "Alternate answer: all colors. Though I'm now growing partial to you in green."

Loki laughs, even as his head is gently pressed back to the wall again. The Grandmaster turns it to the side so Loki's cheek is flat against the cool metal. It feels refreshing, and he's just starting to focus on it, when he hears fabric rustling and something presses up against him.

"You sure, Lo?"

"Yes."

The Grandmaster bites Loki's neck and sucks hard. It's enough of a distraction that Loki hardly notices any pain as he slides in. The catch on his rim startles him briefly, but he's so impatient to finally, _finally_ come, he relaxes with ease.

"Oh, Loki," the Grandmaster murmurs. He leans back to smile at him. Loki shoots him a sloppy grin as he stares out of the corner of his eye. With one hand, the Grandmaster hitches Loki's leg up his hip, then he reaches forward to snag in his hair, gripping tight at the roots. "Hang on tight."

The first thrust knocks the wind out of him. Loki's spine tries to curl forward but the hand in his hair stops the motion. It sends a shock down his scalp and neck and he can't move anything to release the tension, so it just burns, warm and frantic in his gut. He feels himself tighten and tense, and he knows this is it. He lets a hard thrust push the moan from his chest before he starts to give a warning.

Then the Grandmaster pulls out.

"What's that?" the Grandmaster asks casually. The hand that isn't in Loki's hair goes lower to start stroking himself.

Loki twists against the wall, gritting his teeth in fury. He tries to squeeze his thighs together, but a well-placed knee prevents that.

The bastard is still taking care of himself.

"Grandmaster... _Please_! Please, I..." Loki is at a loss for words, and whether it's because his brain is still half-alive or because he's horny enough to just rub off against the Grandmaster's leg and call it a day he doesn't know.

"Shh. I know. I know."

After a minute of shaking against the retreating orgasm and watching the Grandmaster jerk himself off, Loki finally gets what he wants. The Grandmaster presses back in, swallowing Loki's sharp gasp and kissing him hard. It gets sloppier as they go, until Loki isn't even holding himself up against the wall anymore.

He's reduced to quick, hyperventilating pants and the incessant rolling of his own traitorous hips. His hands flex against the metal in time with his abdomen, until finally the Grandmaster pulls his hair tight. Loki's next moan sticks in his windpipe, and he pushes up on his toes as his body tries to decide whether to squirm away or push closer, until finally his thighs snap shut and he comes, tight around the Grandmaster's dick.

The hypersensitivity sets in immediately, but the Grandmaster doesn't stop moving. He buries deep and rotates his hips, grinding into Loki's twitching thighs. For a minute, it just feels like too bright pleasure, white hot against a million screaming nerve endings. Loki realizes he's been letting out a soft whine with every movement the Grandmaster makes. Then suddenly it transitions from too much to not enough, and Loki rides hard on his second orgasm just as the Grandmaster groans and comes himself.

They stand there for a second, catching their breath, and god, if Loki isn't so pleased to have gotten the Grandmaster panting too.

"So? How was that, Lo? Worth it?"

Loki laughs, deep in his chest. His limbs are jelly as the Grandmaster slips out and gathers him up in his arms. He's completely naked while the Grandmaster still never shed his shirt.

"Absolutely incredible. As always," Loki preens. "Worth it."

The Grandmaster smiles and kisses him again, soft and tender. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

They take a long soak in the bath together, and by the time Loki crawls out, most of the shaking has left his limbs.

There are clothes waiting for them when they reach the Grandmaster's chambers, sleek golden armor for him and dark green leather for Loki. The metal accents on Loki's both cover and protect his vitals. The ones on the Grandmaster's seem to be completely for show.

Loki pulls his on and snorts at the cut outs that bare his shoulders and not his arms. "Just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

The Grandmaster blinks innocently. "Can't have you looking any less than your best when you show up half a year late and ready for battle." He smiles and rests his hands on Loki's shoulders. "Well? Drop the glamour."

Loki freezes. "Now?"

"Trust me."

Loki does. He lets the glamour drop and watches green light slide over his skin, revealing... nothing. No change at all. He jerks his head up and sees the Grandmaster's easy grin.

"I've got you."

Loki looks down at himself in his new leather before flicking his wrists smoothly. Twin blades materialize in his hands and he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He can do this.

They walk out of the bedroom and head for the front of the ship. The Valkyrie is there, in her own armor, sword at the ready. Topaz is flying with one hand and holding the melt stick with the other.

"You look good, your majesty," Valkyrie says to Loki. It manages to sound both mocking and sincere at the same time. "Especially for someone who just cheated death."

He grants her a sly grin in reply.

"Coming up on Terra now," Topaz barks as a huge orange gas giant and asteroid field fly past. Just past a tiny red planet floats a mediocre blue and brown one.

Midgard.

"Get ready everyone!" the Grandmaster chirps, donning a gold gauntlet of his own with a little too much gusto.

Loki can't wait to see Thor's face this time.

**Author's Note:**

> as a wise person once tweeted
> 
>  
> 
> [loki]: what would you do if my vagina had teeth
> 
> [the grandmaster, without hesitation]: i'd brush them


End file.
